


Clintasha Prompts

by Yevynaea



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Avengers, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Fluff, Marriage, Mexican Food, Mild Gore, Minor Injuries, One Shot Collection, POV Outsider, Phone Calls & Telephones, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Prompt Fill, SHIELD, Short, Tumblr Prompt, Vampires, Werewolves, idk what other tags i need but whatever, nerf gun wars, war games
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-10 18:26:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3299501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yevynaea/pseuds/Yevynaea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The series of short fics I've written every time the word 'clintasha' has been dropped into my tumblr askbox.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thursday

It happens on a Thursday, and the only reason anyone remembers the day is ‘cause Thursday’s when Juanita’s place has a kids eat free deal, and all the teenagers in town (really, all of us) go to argue for why we should still count. We’re squished in the space, seven or eight of us standin’ around each tiny table ‘cause there aren’t too many chairs. Alucio always asks if Juanita’s glad she’s here in our little town and not somewhere with a high school population of more than twenty-nine. Juanita always just gives him a dirty look, and a slap upside the head if he laughs when he’s asking.

That Thursday is different from all the other Thursdays, though, in a pretty substantial way, ‘cause that’s the Thursday the SHIELD ones show up.

There was some kinda crash out in the desert few days before, and everyone was worried we’d end up like Puente Antiguo, few years back, when Thor crashed there and brought evil robots with him. But that was Monday, and this is Thursday, and there’s been no robots and no Thors and no anything but a long line of SHIELD cars like big shiny ants driving out to the hills and setting up perimeters like they own the damn place. Not that anyone wants to own it, it’s all sand and cacti and the little whiptail lizards that run in front of people when they’re walking, just to scare them.

Anyway, it’s Thursday and we’re all trying to haggle, hoping that this week will be when Juanita gives in and lets us eat without paying anything, and that’s when the sky goes nuts. It lights up, orange and purple like fireworks, and there’s a loud explosion that sounds almost like TV static, and we all press against the front window to see better. It fades after a little bit, and we go back to talking, but then soon the door jingles and everyone turns ‘round to look, and the whole place goes quite again.

They’re leaning on each other, each has a few bruises and he’s got an ankle that looks twisted, and she’s got blood dripping from her lip down her chin, while there’s a good-sized spot of blood staining his blond-ish hair. Both are SHIELD agents, plain as day, in black and grey outfits that look made for fighting. Everyone clears a table so they can sit, which they do, dropping into their chairs like they’ve been standing for days and days. Juanita goes to give them menus, and the woman asks for three waters. Alucio hops off the table he’s been sitting on and goes to the kitchen to grab the water glasses, even though his only shift’s on Sundays.

While we all pretend not to be watching them, they look over the menus, and they use the extra water to wet napkins to make it easier to wipe the dirt and half-dried blood off their skin. When Juanita comes back to take their orders, the woman orders for both of them, two bowls of green chile, and a few people snicker ‘cause they don’t think _los gringos_ will be able to handle Juanita’s chile. In the man’s case, they’re right, he’s coughing and gulping down water while the woman rolls her eyes and eats the chile in bigger spoonfuls than even some of us can. He flips her off, and she puts her spoon down to make a gesture back, and I recognize that’s it’s sign language, though I don’t know what sign.

The two agents eat in silence, occasionally signing something across the table, and then another one comes in, hands two small somethings to the man and gives a respectful nod to both before leaving again, and the man puts the things in his ears. Hearing aids.

"Oh, thank god, I can talk again." He says, with a theatrical sigh. His partner raises an eyebrow.

"You could talk the whole time." She points out.

"Shut up, you know I hate talking when I can’t hear myself." He scowls, but there isn’t any real heat behind the words. The woman smiles and reaches across the table to grab his hand.

"I know. Sorry." She says, still smiling.

"I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for this terrible betrayal." He replies. "Not to mention I think you ordered hot green chile on purpose."

"I would never do such a thing." The woman grins, and her partner makes a disbelieving  _hmph_ sort of noise. “Fine, I did. Will sopapillas make up for it?”

"Possibly." He says haughtily, and she looks unimpressed. "Okay fine, yes, buy me sopapillas. You know me too well." He seems genuinely concerned by this fact, and she just grins again.

"Love you too." She replies.


	2. Targets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all Clint's nightmares are about Loki, contrary to what the SHIELD shrinks believe.

_Breathe,_ and the target is there, on the ground, he just has to take the shot. A flash of red hair and he lets the arrow go, it hits true— they always do— and the Black Widow is dead, blood pooling around her body and staining the thin silver ring on her finger that matches his own—

Clint wakes with a gasp like he’s just been saved from drowning, and Natasha rolls over to watch him, reaching one hand out to place on his shoulder, steadying him while he comes back to the waking world.

"Loki again?" She asks, once his breathing’s gone back to normal and his hand’s found hers. Clint shakes his head.

"Our first meeting." He says, hesitating. "Except…not."

"You took the shot." She guesses, and her husband nods. She squeezes his hand comfortingly, then lets go of it, rolling back over. She doesn’t bother asking any more questions, they’re both tired and they trust each other enough to know that if Clint wanted to talk about the nightmare more, he would. "I’ve had the same one."

"…Where I’ve killed you or where you’ve killed me?" Clint asks.

"Both." Natasha admits. "Usually the second one is only after you’ve left all your dirty dishes in the sink, though."

He laughs, leaning over to kiss her cheek, and Natasha smiles, closing her eyes. She doesn’t fall asleep again until she hears Clint’s breathing settle into peaceful dreams.


	3. Mr. and Mrs. Romanova

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some team reactions to a Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU backstory.

"Lemme get this straight." Sam starts, and Clint groans, because Sam’s been saying the same thing for ten minutes and laughing at them every time they’re forced to re-tell parts of the story.

“ _Yes,_ that’s what happened in Budapest,  _yes,_ me and Natasha are still married, and  _yes,_ we were together for six years before either of us realized who the other was.” Clint gives Sam the rundown  _again._ Sam, Steve, and Tony all burst out laughing again, and Natasha rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

"I just think," Steve has to stop because he’s laughing too hard to speak. "I just think it’s hilarious that you onlyfigured it out because you both showed up to kill the _same guy._ ”

He and the others dissolve into laughter again, and Clint groans, dropping his head into his hands. Natasha uses his distraction to snatch his unfinished dinner plate from the coffee table in front of him.

"Hey! That’s mine!" Clint protests, and she sticks her tongue out at him.

"So was the target in Budapest." She returns, and he groans again, the sound drowned out by how hard everyone is laughing now.

"What on Earth is going on in here?" Pepper asks as she enters the living room, probably worried that Tony’s destroying something or other.

"Pep, Pepper, Pep, you gotta listen to this story." Tony cackles, and Natasha rolls her eyes and uses one foot to shove the engineer out of his chair.


	4. Phone Number

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha gives Steve a phone number that turns out to be not quite what he expected.

"Ugh." Natasha dropped the last of her few small boxes onto the floor of the apartment she’d agreed to move some of her stuff into as a base for Sam and Steve, not flinching at all when something inside shattered. "That would be my snow globe from the SHIELD Secret Santa last year. Ugliest thing I ever saw, and probably from a Hydra agent now that I think about it."

"Isn’t it going to get everything else in the box wet?" Steve inquired, and Natasha just blinked at him before whipping out a knife and cutting the box open.

"God damn it." She muttered, pulling things out of the sticky glitter-filled liquid that was now covering everything in the box. Steve laughed, turning it into a stifled cough when she glared at him.

"So, will you and Sam continue your search for Barnes, now that you’ve got a base camp?" Natasha asked. Steve nodded. Natasha thought carefully about something for a moment before saying, "Seven two zero, three five two, two zero seven nine."

"Uhh." Steve said.

"My phone number, or one of them. Don’t write it down, and don’t repeat it where it can be recorded. That is the only phone number of mine that was never in any SHIELD file, the only people I’ve ever given it to are Clint and Coulson, and now you, so it’s safe to call without worrying about codes. Call me if you need a safe house along the way. I know a few that weren’t in the SHIELD computers."

"Okay." Steve said, grateful for the show of trust. "Thanks."

Natasha picked up a soaking wet decorative stuffed elephant out of the box and pursed her lips. “I don’t even know why I have this.”

~~~~~~~

Weeks later found Sam and Steve, still no closer to locating Bucky and sopping wet after they’d been caught in a sudden rainstorm in Indian Hills, Colorado, in the middle of the night when nothing was open. They’d eventually found a small restaurant and bar to wait out the storm in, but the lead they’d been following was a dead end, and they had nowhere to stay the night. Steve dialed Natasha’s number, turning the phone’s volume up just enough that Sam would be able to hear the conversation.

"Fuck off _.”_  That was definitely not Natasha’s voice. It was familiar, though.

"Clint?" Steve asked.

"Cap!" Clint exclaimed in surprise, and then there was the sound of something heavy (possibly Clint himself) hitting the floor, and multiple smaller crashes. Clint whined, "Aw, feet."

"Um…are you okay?" Steve asked, after a moment of quiet cursing from Clint.

"Yes." Clint replied over-confidently. "Just tripped…and dropped lunch, hold on I have to clean this up."

"O…kay." Steve waited while Sam tried to stifle laughter, and after a few minutes Clint’s voice came back through the phone.

"Back! Okay hi Steve sorry I wasn’t there when SHIELD went down, I promise there’s an explanation—"

"Clint, where’s Natasha?" Steve interrupted. "Isn’t this  _her_  phone number?”

"It’s, yeah, it’s both of ours, it’s our phone number, for this house," Clint continued to mumble unintelligibly.

"Clint." Steve stopped him, gently kicking a still-laughing Sam under the table.

"Yeah?"

"Where’s Natasha?" Steve repeated.

"She’s grocery shopping." Clint answered, then, quieter, he continued, "We’re making actual food tonight, instead of take-out, we were gonna have a date since we haven’t had one since the last time we got married, and—"

"You’re married?" Steve couldn’t stop himself from interrupting.

"Well, yeah, we’ve been married like eleven times now, for missions and stuff." Steve could almost  _hear_ Clint’s nonchalant shrug through the phone line. “We never thought it was a big deal so we just stayed married. But  _anyway,_ why’d you call? Did you need a safehouse? If you’re in Colorado, you can just stay with us, since this house is in Arvada—”

Steve hung up the phone, and Sam laughed loud enough that the whole restaurant turned to stare at them.


	5. Beer and Break-ins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint needs better alcohol.

Natasha didn’t bother being quiet. She closed the apartment door and pet Lucky when the dog approached her, grabbing a beer from the fridge and collapsing onto the couch, grateful to get the weight off her twisted ankle. She grimaced at the taste of cheap beer, but kept drinking it. It was better than nothing. Lucky trotted off down the hall, probably to get Clint, and Natasha debated turning the TV on before deciding against it. There wasn’t much worth watching on at this time of night.

Looking up when the light flicked on, she looked Clint up and down, taking in the coffee stains on his t-shirt and sweats, and the gun in his hand.

"Kate steal your bow again?" She asked, and Clint sighed, lowering the gun. He motioned to his ear, and Natasha nodded, repeating the question in under-practiced sign language.

 _"Borrowed,_  yes.” Clint replied aloud, and Natasha snorted. Barton sat down next to her, and she shifted, sprawling across the sofa with her legs laying over his. She handed him the rest of her beer. (Well, technically  _his_  beer, but whatever. She drank out of it, which made it hers. She gave it to him anyway.)

They fell asleep that way, and when Clint woke up Natasha had made coffee, used the rest of the milk for her cereal, and disappeared. There was a note on the fridge.

‘ _I’ll bring you some **real** alcohol next time.’_ _  
_

Clint laughed.


	6. War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nerf gun wars + Avengers, probably = mass chaos most of the time tbh.

"Does anyone else think the odds are stacked against us, here?" Tony asked, and there were nods all around. Bruce, Rhodey, and Bucky had vouched to stay out of the game and play referee, but Steve, Thor, and Sam were all crouched with Tony behind the couch. (Not hiding, just strategizing, most of them would insist. Sam was fully ready to admit that they were hiding.) Pepper, Jane, Darcy, and Maria Hill made up another team, but they hadn’t been seen nor heard from in fifteen minutes, so Tony and the others assumed the worst.

They heard a small noise from inside the vent across the room, and all four of them froze, Nerf guns held at the ready.

"We shouldn’t have been able to hear anything." Sam pointed out.

"Trap?" Steve asked.

"Trap." Sam and Thor agreed, but Tony was already peeking around the side of the couch, hoping to at least get a good shot at one of the assassins even if it meant sacrificing himself to the trap.

And sacrifice he did, with a foam arrow right between the eyes, and a dart on the back of his head when Natasha appeared from around the corner and shot a volley of darts at the men behind the couch before darting out of sight again. Thor got three shots to the chest, Sam, out of pure luck, managed to duck one aimed for his head, but still got nailed in the stomach, and Steve took two darts to the forehead.

"Oh, hell no." Sam muttered, realizing he was the only one still ‘alive’. He heard a snicker, and decided to throw strategy aside in favor of trying to get at least one of the deadly pair in one final stand. Grabbing Steve’s gun in his free hand, Sam stood and charged forward, shooting around the corner before he could even see whether Natasha was there.

She wasn’t, and Sam felt four darts,  _whap whap whap whap,_ hit the back of his head, the base of his skull, and on either side of his spine, between his shoulder blades. Still in the vents, Clint shot an arrow at the side of Sam’s face, just for good measure.

"You guys take this game way too seriously." Sam complained, and Nat grinned.

"Or maybe you’re just a sore loser." Clint replied, half climbing and half falling down from the air duct.

"No, I think it’s you two." Steve said as he sat up, rubbing his forehead. "What happened to everyone else?"

"Darcy made too much noise, gave away their position. They’re all a floor down. Pepper managed to get me last second, though." Natasha said, putting her gun down to reach to the back of her shoulder, where a dart was stuck to her.

"Go Pep." Tony grinned.

"And Jane got me in the shin, but the dart fell off in the vents. I should probably go back and find it." Clint said.

"You do that." Natasha replied. "But I remember the agreement being that if we won, we got to choose the flavor of ice cream JARVIS orders for the Tower this month."

"You know what kind I like." Clint grinned, pressing a quick kiss to his wife’s lips before scrambling back into the vents in search of the missing Nerf dart.

"JARVIS, order half cookies and cream, and half rocky road." Natasha requested.

"Of course, Miss Romanov." The AI replied.

"And tell my _darling_ husband that he can’t have any of his share until he does his laundry." She added.

"Of course, Miss Romanov." JARVIS agreed, sounding close to laughter.


	7. Fangs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clintasha + Werewolves vs Vampires AU, Being Human style.

Pale skin and sharp fangs digging into flesh and her ears pick up on a heartbeat nearby, fast and scared, and she raises her head, licks the blood from her lips and the fronts of her teeth and looks for the source of the sound.

Dirt under claws and a bit of something stuck between teeth, something that was alive until an hour ago, and his heart races and he’s terrified by the time he’s lost to the hunger inside him, he looks up when he hears footsteps too close for comfort and there’s no way he has time to hide the body now, no matter how little of it is really left.

The full moon makes her hair look blood-red when she steps out from the shadows, and Clint freezes. She stares at him, then at what’s left of the poor soul bleeding into the forest soil.

"I didn’t mean to." His voice is a growl that cracks when he speaks, he doesn’t know why he’s defending himself to a creature no more human than he is, maybe even less, but she seems to understand. She approaches him, silent and graceful, he’s on his knees and she curls herself around him, her fur soft against his skin and her snout on his knee and he hesitates, rests a hand on her head and scratches behind her ears like his dog always used to like. She looks up at him skeptically, but doesn’t move to stop him.

The next morning there’s still blood on their fangs and dirt under their claws, and he’s blushing and stammering and not sure what to do when he realizes she’s human-shaped and naked and still asleep, curled around him. She wakes up and doesn’t seem to mind her lack of clothes, just asks for his phone. She makes a call, and he makes a call when she’s done, and they sit in silence much too companionable for the context.

"I’m Natasha." She introduces herself, after a while.

"Clint." Clint replies. They shake hands, and resolutely don’t laugh at the ridiculousness of the formal introduction in their current situation.

A man shows up with clothes for her, hair a mess and eyes shadowed, more wolf than human, Clint thinks, except maybe the metal arm he’s got that looks more robot than anything, and he looks at both of them, looks at the bleeding body a ways away, and doesn’t say a word.

Coulson shows up too, shades on and suit dark as ever, Clint once accused him of playing into stereotypes but Phil just smiled . He isn’t smiling when he calls Fury asking for help with the body dump, or when he sees Clint and Natasha holding hands while they stand awkwardly at the edge of the carnage.

(He’ll be smiling five years later, when they exchange gold rings because silver burns them both, and he’s standing as best man, but no one knows that yet.)


End file.
